


Rickcest Roleplay Part 1

by dirtygsanchez



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Bondage, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Drugs, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Violence, Voyeurism, rickcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5847286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtygsanchez/pseuds/dirtygsanchez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Sanchez from Earth Dimension C-137 breaks into Evil Rick's lair and finds more than he bargained for.</p><p>2 Authors - 1 writing each character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rickcest Roleplay Part 1

Many had presumably tried and none had succeeded, but today was the day that he, the real, actual Rick beat them all to it. He was going to infiltrate his shadow’s evil lair and find out what could possibly warrant this amount of rumour and subterfuge.

Technically he’d already succeeded, he reflected, and allowed himself a few second’s rest where he lay cramped in the ventilation shaft to bask. I mean, I must be, what, ten meters deep into this labyrinth by now, right? His knee twinged and Rick bit back a groan, because well, you never know. Make that fifteen.

He brought out his badly drawn, half-guesswork sketch of the place’s layout and studied it for a second in the dim light before he pressed on.

Of course, there was always the possibility that plenty other people, versions of himself even more likely, had succeeded before him, but had never been allowed to live to boast of it. 

Then again, Rick had long ago come to terms with his own death wish. It was practically the oldest friend he had.

——————–

Evil Rick awoke from a deep sated slumber and stretched languidly like a cat, noticing with an amused smile that he had not made it out of his lab and had instead passed out cold on the floor. 

His plaything lay crumpled next to him; grey form bearing no hint of life, limbs beginning to stiffen in grotesque distortion. He supposed he should feel pity for the dead Officer Rick, but he could only muster disgust for the thing, tinged with a hint of regret that he had not possessed the restraint to keep him alive longer. He let his eyes drift closed as he relived the night before. This Rick had been intoxicating, his blood tinged with the sour sweet tang of fear and stimulants. Ripping into him, he had lost control, and as stars burst at the edges of his vision, he had fucked him until his screams turned to moans before he fell deadly silent.

Standing, he was forced to lean heavily against his worktable, clearly still under the influence of the cocktail of substances he had eagerly consumed some hours previously. Regaining his balance, he kicked the cumbersome corpse towards a hatch in the corner of the lab, confident that his Morty would deal with it later, hopefully before the thing started to rot.

The rest is under the cut…

Onwards and… well. Forwards. Like any good air duct, there were grids at regular intervals that not only let through air but also a clear view of the rooms below. Rick had passed a canteen a while back - why on Earth would this Rick need a canteen? 

But that was for later. He was approaching another gap now and just as before did everything he could to make his movements absolutely soundless. His heartbeat rose so high in his throat, he ought to be able to taste it… at any twist, at any turn, horrors might be waiting. And he was growing impatient.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have willed something to happen with quite so much force, though, because just as he was about to part his lips to curse the universe into bringing it on already, Rick heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps from the grid still just out of reach in front of him.

Well… no going back now. Inch by inch, he moved over the metal and watched the room below reveal itself. And oh… right. That was unmistakably a big old pool of blood. Right.

And then, just as he pulled himself forward to catch a glimpse of the talented painter that had caused this piece, the edge of his coat caught in a gap between the metal sheets and came loose again much too suddenly to be quiet. 

…Right. So, yes, he was probably going to see the master himself at work much sooner than he might have wanted. Fuck. Fuck me, fuck this, fuck this whole stupid half baked plan.   
Fuck.

————————-

Evil Rick slipped sinuously into a nearby chair, catching himself releasing a slow sigh of relief as his creaking, aching old limbs settled.  _Was he getting too old for this shit?_

Sliding a blood-stained hand through his sweat stained hair, he made a mental note to seek a shower at the nearest opportunity. Patting down his lab coat pockets he retrieved a battered packet of cigarettes, easing one between his lips, he lit it and sucked back the velvet smoke with a soothing shiver. At that same moment he heard a clattering sound resonate from somewhere behind him.

_“Morty?”_

Nothing. Seduced into apathy by the comfort of his chair, he chose to ignore the noise, dismissing it as a one of his hard-shelled lackeys and instead diverted his attention to the wildly scribbled schematic plans on his desk. 

_“Diabolical.”_

————————

It had been a painful few minutes but now against all sense, it really did seem like the coast was clear. Either that, or someone was waiting for Rick to make an ass of himself again. 

Now he was close enough to survey the whole room and… there he was. Huh. There but for the grace of God go I, or whatever. Sure, that scar was a nice touch, but given this Rick’s reputation, he’d probably done it to himself on purpose just to look appropriately cliché. Tssk. Childish.  
  
Of course, Rick wasn’t intimidated - not in the slightest, and definitely not just because he now had visual confirmation that he indeed wasn’t the first to get this far.

Right. So this Rick was a murderous cartoon villain who probably went through guys like him like a fork through wet toast, and he was confident enough, or high enough to completely ignore suspicious noises from the most obvious points of entrance. Right. No problem. Where would a man like that stash his secrets? Probably lasers were involved, possibly starved rats…

Well, he couldn’t lay here all day, admiring the cosmetic changes achievable with a razor and a bit of purple eye shadow, could he? For now, all he could do was faint from exhaustion or press on. With all the grace he could muster, Rick crawled forward.

————————-

 Evil Rick surveyed his fiendish plans, quite thrilled by their foul nature. He quickly found himself fantasising about describing them in vile detail to a captive audience, an audience, which, he mused, would then meet their violently cruel end.  He laughed out loud maniacally, enjoying the sensation of feeling like a Bond villain, but of course without the cat, he fucking hated cats.

Hearing a scuffling, almost like a fat rat would make, Evil Rick swiftly extinguished his cigarette and listed intently, frozen in position. As the noise continued he scanned the room in search of his laser pistol. Moving from his seat with stealth, he scooped the gun up from the floor and pointed it in the direction of the maddening shuffling sound, aiming it directly at the ventilation shaft.

_“I…I’ve got you in my sights Mother Fucker.”_

—————————

 _How in the hell..?_  Rick was so sure he’d made no noise. Of all the times to realize you’re starting to go deaf on one ear, this, this would have to be the worst possible one. He lay frozen with embarrassment and fear for a second, then regained his can-do, positive attitude.   
The crawl space was much too tight for him to reach down and get his gun out of his coat pocket with any sort of stealth, so he’d just have to fall back on his winning charm. Well, world - it’s been nice knowing you, you’ve sucked, farewell.  
  
 _“R-right. Congratulations. You’ve got me. What… what do you want me to do?”_

_——————————_

Evil Rick, who had been expecting some kind of feral half-rat, half-God only knows what to emerge from the shaft was taken aback to say the least. Instantly he recognised the voice, being that it was so similar to his own; another Rick. Frankly he had killed so many of his alternate selves at this point that it never ceased to surprise him that they continued to attempt to sneak into his home.

Perhaps instead of killing them he needed to maim them, perhaps then the dipshits would get the fucking message.

He lowered his gun and rolled his eyes.

_“W-well, you could start by get, getting out of my shaft.”_

_————————_

_“Yeah I agree, I agree… it’s just… I don’t think I can get back to the grid.”_  

It was true, but it might also buy him some time. _“I mean I can keep going, get out the other end and we can, let’s say, forget this whole thing ever happened?”_

If he could just twist his arm like  _this_  and fold himself like  _this_ , Rick might be able to get something out of a convenient pocket that could double as a weapon…

————————–

Evil Rick subconsciously bunched his fists until they ached. Clearly this Rick was stalling, which would have been a smart move if he was dealing with a rational person, he mused. Picking up his gun he pointed it at the shaft, targeting one of the soldered joints. If his estimations were correct, which they usually were, one short blast would either crack the section in two releasing the Rick down onto the floor, or it would puncture the shaft and kill the trespasser. At least the mess would be contained he thought with a dark smile; he didn’t fancy picking pieces of skull, sharp as tiny cat’s teeth, out of his lab coat for the second time this week. 

Taking aim he fired. 

—————————

It was quite neat. Without fuss, the severed metal passage, weighed down by Rick’s weight snapped one of its bindings after the other in a dragged out motion accompanied by the sound of screeching metal. 

Rick matched the tortured noise with one almost as loud. He scrambled to get forward, to buy himself another second to crawl to comparative safety, but soon the angle was too steep and he was deposited gracelessly from his hiding place. 

As he slid over the edge and tried one last time to get some purchase, the broken metal dug into his sleeve and tore first into that and then deep into the flesh of his arm. He landed on the concrete floor below and heard a sickening crack as his left leg came down first and softened the blow for the rest of him.

It was too painful for him to even be coherent, but he still lifted his shaking, uninjured arm to reach for his gun.

————————–

Evil Rick watched transfixed, pleased by the ease with which the metal buckled, astounded by the fluidity of Rick’s fall. He was struck most of all by the noises he was making; they were incredible, a gratifying cacophony of scrambling fear, sharp pain and rising panic. As he heard the delightful crack of frail bone fracturing against hard floor and caught the sight of a fresh flesh puckered wound on Rick’s arm, he shivered with elation.

He continued to watch, half impressed as Rick, bloodied, bruised and clearly trembling, shakily reached for his gun. It was only then that he realised who he was dealing with; anyone else would have been sobbing and desperately bargaining for their lives by this point.

Firmly extending his hand he aimed his own pistol directly at Rick’s head.

_“Don’t even think about it C-137, unless you want a closed casket.”_

_————————_

_“Fine. Just-just-just checking.” God damn it.”_ Rick slowly raised his hands over his head and he had to bite down on the insides of his cheeks to stay quiet as the wound hurt even worse.

The adrenaline from the pain and the fear was lifting him up and he could suddenly take in so much more than usual. How cold the concrete was. The sharp smell of blood. How the man above him differed from himself in small ways - his jaw was a little sharper, his neck a little thicker, his eyes a little more black.

“Now what?”

Rick avoided his other versions as much as possible, and it was uncanny to watch his shadow. He couldn’t help thinking some demon was puppeteering his own body in front of him while he, the real Rick, hung helplessly lose, just a spirit, shut out of control. And now that he was bleeding out and his body slowly drugged him to comfort him in his agony, it only strengthened the illusion.

Danger wasn’t something he took very seriously at the best of times and right at this moment, he couldn’t even make himself believe he was truly experiencing it. That would probably not be the reaction best suited to please his captor.

——————

 Evil Rick stood scowling, more than a little annoyed that C-137 didn’t even have the respect to cower, he could at least have faked it, did he even realise the danger he was in?

He studied Rick as he moved closer, he seemed to be swaying, his pupils constantly adjusting and re-adjusting position; he looked drunk. Admittedly most Ricks looked drunk, but this one, this one looked saturated, the sallow skin, the stained lab coat, the distinctive reek of Scotch; he was a mess. The harsh reality of his own alcoholism looked back at him through semi-glazed eyes and only served to intensify his anger.  

 “ _Now what?”_  The impertinent question sounded again in his mind. He wanted to respond…. _“Now, now C-137? Now I drill holes in your head and skull fuck you until you pass away.”_  But in a rare moment of self-restraint he thought the better of it, deciding it was probably best to find out exactly why this particular Rick was here, before doing anything else.

_“Sit down before you fall down.”_

Evil Rick gestured at a nearby chair with his pistol.

———————–

 _“With pleasure,”_ Rick said tartly. _“you… You gonna carry me over there?”_ He couldn’t even get to his feet although that didn’t stop him trying. It did look much more comfortable and warm that the floor…

Rick let a pained sigh escape him and closed his eyes for a blissful moment. _“…you know… I’m-I’m much more fun conscious,”_ he added with a gesture indicating his still bleeding arm.

———————–

 As much as he enjoyed seeing any Rick crawling on his knees, subjugated on the floor, Evil Rick was explicitly aware that C-137 simply couldn’t sustain this rate of flood loss. Admittedly there was a whole array of sordid activities he could undertake with Rick’s broken body whilst he was passed out _, but_ if he was going to interrogate him, he needed him conscious.

 _“Fine.”_ He acquiesced with a frustrated huff.

_“I, I’ll get some bandages, but you, you make it to the chair your damned self.”_

_————————–_

It was a good thing he didn’t have much shame left in his poor old body. With his weight on his uninjured arm, Rick turned over and pulled himself slowly across the floor, trailing his broken leg and his blood behind him.

It took a while, and the other Rick watched him all the while without helping. _“G…glad I-i-i could amuse you.”_ Finally he made it and shakily stood on one leg before dropping down into the chair. A last cigarette would really help…

—————————-

 Evil Rick watched with amusement as C-137 painstakingly wrenched himself across the floor and into the seat, admittedly more concerned about the blood-slick streaks on his floor tiles than the state of Rick’s damaged leg. 

Watching Rick’s eyes drift longingly towards the battered cigarette packet on his work bench he rolled his eyes; as if, what else did he want, a fucking Brandy too?

Evil Rick moved cautiously beside Rick, taking time to examine his arm wound, it needed surgical stitches, but staples would do. 

Always keeping one eye on Rick and a hand near his hip holster he searched in a nearby drawer and retrieved a syringe filled with a glistening green substance.

 _“D-don’t shit yourself C-137, it’s just pain relief_ …. He plunged the needle hard into Rick’s arm, savouring the resulting squirm. _“…and a little something extra.”_ He added darkly, just as the remaining drops of fluid drained from the barrel.

——————

Rick watched it mournfully. With it went his last chance at freedom… 

Still there was a part of him who was curious to see where this would go. Rick hadn’t been bored yet, and that was saying something. He sighed and leaned back in his chair and let relief flood over him while the other watched him. Finally, he got his breath back enough to croak _“I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have expected any less of you…”_

_——————-_

 Evil Rick watched with perverse fascination as the drugs took effect, witnessing Rick soften back into the chair, a soft, loose smile spreading across his stupid heavily intoxicated face. As he punctured C-137’s arm wound with the surgical staples, in an attempt to halt the profuse bleeding, he noticed with some frustration that Rick barely seemed to notice.

Evil Rick threw the staple gun to the floor, feeling a sharp string of regret that he had not withheld the painkillers for longer.  

Pulling a chair up to sit opposite Rick, he forced him to hold his steely gaze as he danced his fingers up C-137’s thin thighs.

Rick’s eyes started to roll back into his head.

_“Rick.”_

No response. Evil Rick cracked C-137 across the face with the back of his hand which seemed to nicely rouse him from his dosed semi-slumber.

 _“You….why did you come here tonight C-137?”_ he asked, tightening his clawed grip around Rick’s thighs.

————————————

Hrrm. What was happening? And what was happening to his legs? Rick struggled to sit up, his head rolled forward, he nodded, then finally managed to make eye contact with the other Rick.

And he really wished he hadn’t. That lovely tingle that washed away the pain and stress had made him feel quite friendly towards him, but the feeling was obviously not returned. That hungry, hate-filled look drove the point home. And what was happening to his legs, again?

_“Is-is… are you feeling me up?”_

That thought could scare him, even now. Rick could switch off from a lot of things, but that… that was just too unpleasant to dwell on. He’d been asked a question, hadn’t he? He licked his lips nervously and struggled to remember.

———————

_“Feeling you up?”_

Evil Rick rolled the words around in his mouth deciding that he liked the innocence of the expression. Delicious when accompanied by the somewhat contradictory expression on C-137’s face of mild arousal and firm resistance.

Grasping at the lapels of Rick’s lab coat he pulled him forcefully towards him, locking eyes with him.

_“J-Jesus Rick, stop acting like a frigid school-girl and answer the damn question!”_

_———————–_

Oh yeah. The question.

_“I-I just wanted to see what was so fuck-uuhrp-ing special about you. You’ve got the council running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off… alright? That’s it!”_

The reason Rick had asked was, while he definitely did not Get It personally, it didn’t surprise him in the slightest that some Ricks would fuck each other. He guessed it made sense - less boring than jerking yourself off, and the members of the council were narcissistic even by his standards. But for him? No. Besides, he was much too selfish to be of particular interest to anybody.

———————

Evil Rick stood up, sliding behind Rick, he placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, holding him in place.

 _“Oh C-137, how precious, I’m almost flattered.”_ He teased.

_“What, what did you think y-you would break in here without me knowing and then what, steal my plans? Or…or were you more interested in watching me?”_

He snaked his hands into Rick’s lab coat and smoothed them down his warm frail chest. Slowly he moved his lips to Rick’s ear, brushing against his earlobe provocatively.

_“If you wanted to watch me, you need only have asked.”_

_————————-_

“ _Urgh,_ _no!”_ Rick shook his head to try to dislodge the cotton that had blocked it up. Moving was difficult. Thinking was difficult. But it wasn’t hard to know he wasn’t into that.

He knew very well that the worst thing he could do was betray how much it affected him, how it made his skin crawl. But that sane part was watching on like it always did when he was intoxicated enough, doing no more than metaphorically shrugging its shoulders and washing its hands of the whole mess.

Although this Rick looked different, smelled different - he definitely moved different. It wouldn’t be the same… It’d be worse. It’d especially be worse to have to live with himself afterwards.

_“Can we-can-can we get back to the interrogation? Now? Can we do that? I’d rather hand out my secrets to every asshole that’s ever-ever wanted them than having your slimy hands all over me.”_

_———————-_

Rick’s disgusted noises signalling a clear protest were exactly the sounds he wanted to hear.

 _“Interrogation?” Evil_ Rick laughed maliciously. _“You, you really think that is what is happening here C-137?_

Reaching into his lap coat pocket he retrieved a modified pair of Council laser cuffs and skilfully looped them around Rick’s bony wrists, activating them swiftly before Rick could even register what was happening.

_“The only reason I didn’t extinguish you the minute I caught sight of your sorry URRP ass C-137 is because I am bored and you, you Motherfucker, are my entertainment.”_

He thrust the pointed tips of his slender fingers into the ragged bloody flesh of Rick’s arm wound, applying just the right amount of pressure to cause damage without breaking the staples and watched his reaction with depraved joy.

————————–

 _“Oww, FUCK!”_ Rick was nearly whimpering in pain and his whole body shook. It was strong enough and bad enough to cut through the fog, and he was almost grateful for it, because it gave the kick he needed to finally be able to act.

Damn it, he was not going down without a fight. He hopped onto his undamaged leg and let himself fold onto the floor again, slipping onto his back. Whatever came next it wouldn’t come from behind, and until he was finally completely restrained he could kick and spit and bite.

 From this undignified position he glared up at his twin with furious hatred. There was blood on his tongue and he spat it in his direction.

———————–

  _“Well, well well, C-137, you, aren’t you a tough customer?”_  Evil Rick mocked, smoothing Rick’s crimson spit from his cheek into his mouth with his freshly blood-stained fingers. 

  _“Look….look at you, back down on the floor, prefer it down there don’t you?”_  he sneered, taking broad steps towards him and placing the tip of his shoe against Rick’s clearly fractured leg.”

 _“You could make this so much easier for yourself.”_  he whispered menacingly, twisting his foot and looking down at him with feigned disgust, applying more pressure.

_“But then may, maybe this is how you prefer it C137? Is it, is this what gets you URRP, get’s you hard, being taken?”_

_—————————_

This time, Rick did whimper. In this large hall with its high ceiling the pathetic sounds he made had room to blossom and they filled the air, impossible for him to ignore. He blushed in pain and embarrassment and tried to pull his leg out of the way. When the other Rick finally gave him a moment to breathe and respond, he took it, resolutely ignoring what he’d just sunk to.

_“That…that really-really matters to you, doesn’t it? Getting my dick hard?”_

Rick could see tiny glowing tadpoles swimming in front of him, but he pressed on. Despite himself, he really was quite curious to know. _“B-because I’ve… I’ve managed it a lot of times and… well. You’re not doing it right.”_

He knew he’d end up begging, pleading, broken and humiliated probably beyond what he could even imagine, and he had a good imagination. It was just a matter of time. And he wanted to see how long he could last.

—————————

 Evil Rick walked over to his desk and lit a cigarette, considering C-137’s words, amused by his impudence. Over the years, he’d had many encounters with a lot of different Ricks but none that had gone quite like this. Such encounters always began with begging; begging either for their life or begging to be ravaged and usually ended with Evil Rick pulling them close to witness the light dying in their eyes and feel them stiffen in his arms.

He caught himself looking at C-137 with a lustful admiration and quickly cast his eyes aside. It had been a long time since he’d given anything close to a shit about a Rick and this renewed, wholly unsettling feeling made his stomach churn.

He wanted to pull Rick close and plunge his tongue down his throat – but, disgusted by the singularity of this tender impulse, instead he threw his lit cigarette at Rick, chuckling as it landed on his arm and singed the skin.

 _“Don’t look so surprised C-137,”_ he laughed, _you’ve been eyeing up my butts all night.”_

_————————-_

Where had  _that_ come out of? Rick refused to take the bait and glance down.

  _“Yeah, no, s-uuhrp-sorry, ‘Rick’, that’s not gonna do it either. You-you clearly work out, but, yanno. I might as well be playing with my own ass. Much less messy.”_

Although, now that he’d been set on this train of thought, he couldn’t help wondering whether he himself ever moved as smoothly as that, with as much control as that. This villain thing… it had much more style than he’d ever managed to acquire. Perhaps he should play along with this after all - one last blow job before he died wouldn’t hurt…

—————————-

 _Clearly work out?_ Evil Rick smiled to himself, almost touched by the backhanded compliment.

 _“So C-137, playing with your own ass is it?”_ he laughed. _“It, it’s certainly something I’d like to see and I’m certain other like –URRP- minded individuals would also appreciate such a grotesque show.”_

He retrieved a small handset from his coat pocket and depressed the button, simultaneously sending a short sharp warning shock through Rick’s cuffs.

_“Just a little modification I made, very useful.”_

Licking his lips, he pulled his mobile phone out of his trouser pocket, pointed it directly at Rick capturing his pitiful pained image with the video camera.

 _“Go on then.”_ he prompted with a sadistic grin. “ _Show me what you got.”_

_———————————_

“ _Aahh…!”_ Rick panted, squirmed, blushed angrily. _“Are you…are you fucking kidding me?! Just kill me already! What are you going to ask me to do next, shit myself?!”_

Was this really happening?! It wasn’t just torture. If he’d ever doubted the sincerity of this captors hints, that ended here.

It was written plainly all over that harrowed face, probably even more than the other Rick realized - he wanted this; not just to humiliate and break him. It was actually going to get him off.

Rick shut his eyes tight, ready to pray for this to go in any other direction. And to pray even harder that he didn’t get stiff himself…

——————————-

 _“Make you shit yourself C-137?”_ Evil Rick smirked and shrugged his shoulders. _“Well I hadn’t planned on it, but I’m sure there’s an enema kit in one of these drawers, if that’s your thing.”_

His expression grew firmer, darker. _“We had better get to this; I don’t have all f-fucking night.”_

Striding over to Rick, he gripped his cuffed wrists and hauled him across the floor of his lab, digging his knee into Rick’s back, encouraged by his growling and kicking out with his one good leg.

On the wall was an iron chain attached to a cast-iron collar. _“I don’t own any dogs.”_ Evil Rick muttered flatly, reading his expression.

He attempted to attach the collar but Rick was squirming too much. Not known for his patience he opted to punch Rick in the side of the head, appreciating the dull thud of flesh against flesh. It wasn’t a hard knock, but it was enough to momentarily daze him and warn that the next would be harder.

Attaching the collar, he stood back, raising his camera phone and admiring his handy work with a perverse grin.  

Depressing a button on his handset the cuffs disengaged with a crackle of electricity. Searching in his coat pocket he retrieved a rather filthy looking tube of lubrication and threw it into Rick’s lap.

_“Now C-137, strip, strip for me. It doesn’t have to be anything URRP sexy, I mean just look at the state of you. Just take it off.”_

_———————-_

The pain was just too much, and so was the sorrow and humiliation. Rick’s skin crawled with heat and embarrassment, but he didn’t speak any longer. Was this how it ended? Really?! Well, fine. But he wasn’t going to beg, wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

His only last rebellion was to keep his eyes firmly locked on his captor’s, showing him with every moment the full force of his hatred. Even though he was blushing, shaking and obeying, he wasn’t about to hide from him.

Getting out of his clothes with only one working arm was difficult, but Rick got there. The thick silence he just left to stew.

His coat, his t-shirt, vest his shoes and his trousers, one by one they piled up on the floor and then finally his boxers as the cherry on top. Rick got on his knees, still staring up at the other, leaning back against the cold unyielding wall so that he could remain upright.

In fact, the only source of heat he had left was the sheer tension and hatred between them. The pain in his leg and his arm was just a welcome distraction now.

He spread his legs slowly and just like he had known he would, just as unavoidable and looming and horrific a certainty as death itself, he felt himself twitch and grow hard.

—————————-

Evil Rick watched, quite intrigued by Rick’s actions; he had done as instructed and was removing his clothes, but _this_ , this wasn’t submission, no, this was definitely defiance.

C-137 cut a pitiful figure in so many ways; the garish purple hue of his bruised cheek, his clearly fractured leg, his seeping punctured arm, his frail shivering body, all resting against the wall; Rick gloriously stripped of everything but his burgeoning outrage. The silent tension between them was thick and strangely suffocating.

The only thing that would make this any better would be…

…and there it was; the exquisite beginnings of an achingly hard erection.

But it wasn’t the sight of Rick hardening that thrilled him most, it was the expression on his face as realised it was happening; the rising panic vibrating at the edges of his eyes, the self-repulsion clearly lumping in his throat. It was shockingly charming.

 _“Something you want to tell me C-137?”_ Evil Rick asked playfully, cutting through the silence, signalling his acknowledgement of the shame visibly swelling between Rick’s delightfully skinny thighs.

————————–

 God, he wanted to sink through the stone and die, here and now. There was no way he’d ever live this down, Rick would never let him; in fact he wouldn’t be surprised if this was what finally brought the council and his tormentor together, laughing at their shared rival.

It was just too fucking similar to his fantasies and his games. Rick could no longer remember how often he’d ended up like this, naked, struggling and bound, but this was real for the very first time, just as he’d secretly wished it would be.

He felt sick to his stomach and he ached, hoped beyond all hope that he would be shown mercy.

 _“No,”_ he said finally. His voice was cracked, broken. _“I’ve g-got nothing to say.”_

_————————-_

Evil Rick chuckled darkly and took soft dangerous steps towards him, tightly clutching his camera phone, filming everything, capturing Rick’s gradual debasement in glorious technicolor.

 _“It’s okay, C-137_ ” he soothed, tracing his slender fingers along the cold metal of the collar and along Rick’s jawline.  _“You…you don’t need to talk, it seems your body is doing that for you, despite your will.”_

“ _I wonder what it will say to me next.”_  He whispered teasingly with soft cadence, unable to sustain his restraint any longer he licked a hot wet swathe up the side of Rick’s face, positioning the camera view so that Rick could witness the look on his own face as he was unashamedly tasted.

————————-

 _“Urgh,”_ Rick groaned and shut his eyes tight, trying to ignore him, trying to ignore the sick lurch in his stomach and the pathetic way his poor body reacted. One tiny, mocking sign of tenderness and he half wanted to lean into it, encourage it. Try to win this Rick over. _“Fuck you, shithead. D-d-don’t… don’t touch me.”_

His arms hung lamely by his sides; his cock throbbing, so swollen it hurt to ignore it, but he wouldn’t go anywhere near it until he was made to. Even then, he’d almost rather die. Almost.

_“Just give me another shot, get me drunk, anything… anything so I can get through this.”_

_————————_

Get through this? Evil Rick rolled his eyes; clearly C-137 had no appreciation for the tender attention he was currently being lavished with.

 _“Sure, Rick.”_ He cooed, reaching into small pocket within the interior of his lab coat to retrieve a tiny plastic bag filled with a finely ground purple powder. Skilfully he heaped some onto the tip of his finger and placed it under the base of Rick’s nose. Watching with satisfaction as Rick, clearly no stranger to drugs greedily shorted the lot.

_“Th…that should, how did you put it C-137, get you URRP through it, loosen you. But it will also ensure that my slightest touch will alight your nervous system; have you ever been reduced to tears by breath on your neck? This stuff is precious.”_

He looked down at Rick’s swollen angry cock.

_“God only knows what will happen when we deal with that.”_

Taking a step back, he positioned the camera phone and smiled perversely.

_“Touch yourself and let’s see, shall we?”_

_————————_

The effect was immediate and it was bliss. Fuck how he felt about this when he came down; right now everything was sickeningly pleasant. That monster wanted to see him in ecstasy? He’d show him.

Rick slumped back against the wall and spread his legs even further, reached down and finally, at last, wrapped his hand around the base of his dick. That first touch alone was enough to make him groan, make the hair on his arms stand up and a smile dance across his lips.

Slowly, firmly, he began to stroke himself, coax his foreskin back and forth over the head. Rick stared up at the camera, his eyes black with lust and intoxication, his cheeks flushed, his lips slick with saliva and he let the microphone catch his moans, one after the other.

 _“Ohhh… F-fuck,”_ he slurred. _“Finally, you’re good to me…”_

_——————————–_

Evil Rick watched entranced, it wasn’t the first time he’s filmed this sort of thing but usually it occurred near the end of the night, at that critical point when his consort had cried his last hopeless tears and consumed the last drops of his Evil Rick’s sordid seed, having reluctantly accepted his doomed fate. _This_ , well this was entirely new.

The sight of this old man, who was in nearly all ways his mirror image, bent double; hunched, sweating, groaning and beating his hand back and forth with such dribbling fervour undeniably made his heart thud hard and fast in his chest.

Unconsciously he found himself moving towards Rick, eager to immerse himself in the frenzied sounds C-137 was making, to allow the salacious stench of him to permeate his every pore.

 _“Enchanting.”_ He sighed, capturing a provocative close-up. Rick looked up holding his cold gaze and in that moment he felt something deep within him fracture; a haemorrhage of desire which forced him to place the phone to the side and wrap his skeletal fingers around Rick’s throat.

“ _Keep going.”_ he gasped, increasing the force of his grasp, carefully monitoring the pressure, restricting Rick’s intake of air.

———————

 _“Unhhh…”_ Rick moaned loudly, arched his back, leaned into him. His eyes half closed with lust and he looked up, pleading wordlessly like an animal in heat. This - giving in, enjoying it, handing himself over like a slut on a silver platter - this was definitely working. 

The other Rick was watching him as if entranced, infatuated and more possessive than anyone else had ever been towards him. As high as he was now and as maddeningly good as this felt, he found that look, that reaction incredibly flattering. 

Every half-breath Rick could suck in sent sparks flying through his oxygen-starved veins, and his cock… His cock had never felt so good before. How much better would this get if he stooped just a little lower.

Rick choked out a quiet, desperate, shamelessly submissive _“Please.”_

_————————_

Unsure if Rick was pleading for release or begging for him to squeeze harder, Evil Rick opted for the latter.

Hastily pulling off his lab coat he cast it aside and manoeuvred himself on top of Rick, pushing him back, straddling him. Wrapping his hands around Rick’s bruised neck, he increased his stranglehold, watching with fascination as Rick writhed beneath him. He pressed against him, his cold belt buckle and building erection forced rigidly against Rick’s chest as he stared down at him with a perverse admiration.

He was beginning to understand his counterpart; _that_ look, that impossibly divine look in his eyes, when he inflicted his depravity upon him, it was viciously intoxicating.

 _“I see you.”_ He softly soothed, watching the flush fade from Rick’s cheeks as he slowly turned pale.

_“It’s not the pain, is…is it Rick, or the lack, lack of control, it’s the punishment…”_

He loosened his hold just enough to deliver the gift of breath, keeping Rick teetering on the edge.

_“…because you are bleakly self-aware of your own minuscule worth.”_

Evil Rick slipped one hand from around Rick’s neck and eased his thumb and forefinger between Rick’s lips, forcibly opening his mouth.

He caught Rick’s troubled eyes and with as much sincerity as he could muster whispered;

_“You’re wrong old man.”_

Taking a deep breath he spat vehemently down Rick’s throat.

—————————

 It burned, it hurt, having to fight so hard to get just enough air. Rick gagged on the spit and made a hopeless, broken noise of disgust. But he knew better than to try to fight. It sickened him to have to swallow but it soothed, too. 

Rick shuddered violently, squirmed, tried to get back to feeling good, high, painfully turned on. Those words… So he knew how much he hated himself, and now he wanted to reassure him? 

Like a dog, a broken animal who’d find its worth again by being useful, and pleasing its master… Tears rose to his eyes and he turned away, making sure he still choked loudly so the other Rick wouldn’t manage to read his thoughts again.

His hips thrust up, trying to get some little bit of friction, distract the other, turn him on. Shaking, Rick’s hand came up to stroke his back, pull him close.

_—————————–_

Evil Rick saw him silently break, his suspicions confirmed as he felt the tentative uncertainty of C-137’s trembling hand gliding up his back, attempting to pull him in and gently envelope him; finally a glimmer of reciprocation. He could easily have forced Rick into all sorts of positions through torture and force, but this, this mental buckling beyond acceptance into aching yearning desire; this was what he wanted most of all.  

Shifting back, he spat into his hand and smoothed it over the head of Rick’s twitching hungry cock, touching him deliberately slowly, delicately tracing his fingers over each crease and veiny crook. He allowed Rick to slip his hand up his shirt, enjoying the sensation of his calloused fingers raking demandingly down his spine.

Witnessing the tension begin to fade from Rick’s face, he moved closer to him, running the pointed tip of his tongue around Rick’s neck as he continued to caress and tease his searing erection.

——————————

Fuck, it felt so good… What really mattered, other than feeling someone else’s heat near his, have someone strong and sure stroke his cock?

Rick squirmed, bucked his hips for more, ached and whined. So what if he died like this, was forced to live like this? So what if the discarded phone was still recording and now caught and broadcasted every lustful, hungry noise dragged from him? If not deserved, it was predictable…

 _“Fuck, Rick… It-it feels so fucking good,”_ he babbled. Encouraged by his touch, Rick slipped his hand around and pressed his palm to the other’s hot, painful-looking bulge, eager to return the favor, stay in favor, even for just a little bit. Shit, even whipping would make him cum now, he was so close.

—————————–

 Evil Rick released a rough growl of pleasure as he felt Rick’s hand claw wantonly across his crotch. Determined to maintain his composure, which he could already feel starting to crumble, he slowly unzipped his fly, remaining buttoned, narrowly releasing himself enough to enjoy the sharp friction of the zip cutting across his shaft. Releasing some length on the chain restraining Rick to the wall, by his collar, he slipped back and curled his bony hand around the rear of Rick’s head, firmly guiding his mouth downwards.

Just as Rick’s invitingly warm mouth was about to engulf him, he pulled the chain sharply, suspending Rick’s head in a tantalizingly close position, watching with amusement as his drool pooled down onto his crotch.

_“Tell me, tell me what you want C-137.” He prompted sternly._

Desire wasn’t good enough, he wanted devotion.

—————————–

His mouth watered - it was gorgeous, thick, twitching. Rick strained against the chain, licked his lips, looked up with uncertainty and hunger, met the other Rick’s cruel, cold eyes and felt goosebumps rise all over his back.

 _“Please,”_ he croaked, tugged at the chain again. He knew what he had to do and was too painfully desperate to even be ashamed of giving in. _“Let-let-let me suck it, let me taste it…”_

Still he was denied. Rick half sobbed, half groaned. _“Tell me what-what I gotta do to get a taste…”_

_———————–_

Evil Rick closed his eyes, savoring Rick’s words, letting them deeply settle inside. Witnessing C-137’s obscene aching desire to touch and taste him was in its own vulgar way, a beautiful thing. So what did Rick have to do for a taste?

 _“Let me fuck your face raw like a cunt.”_  Evil Rick’s sneer twisted into a hard scowl.

He watched as some part of Rick internally recoiled at the statement, whilst the baser part of him seemed to like the idea, signalled by a tiny smirk lurking at the sides of his mouth.

Slowly he let the cold chain filter through his fingers, pledging enough length for Rick to finally reach him, an act of mercy for both of them. 

——————

God, this was nasty… but he still leaned in and eagerly caught the swollen head between his lips, sucking, slobbering, straining to take it deeper. Rick was too desperate, too turned on, too high to do this with any finesse, but it wasn’t wanted either. The creep wanted a drooling, obedient dog and if acting like one meant he finally got to come, he’d be one and worse.

Those words, though… they replayed over and over in his head, and made his legs weak. Forget coming, forget jerking himself off, he wanted to be useful, good, he wanted to get fucked and keep taking it, choke, gag until he got to taste it, drink it…

——————

Evil Rick closed his eyes in concentration and allowed the chain to run freely through his fingers permitting Rick greater freedom to take on his entire length.

The feeling of C-137’s hot wet eager mouth was all consuming and conquered his senses, blocking out all else, leaving only the greedy rhythm of his sloppy lips and a subtle scraping sensation from the tiny ragged edges of his teeth.

 _“T-t-t –take it all.”_ He gasped, clasping his hand onto the rear of Rick’s head and applying a fierce amount of pressure, enjoying his accompanying gag. Holding Rick’s head in place he violently bucked his hips, fucking his mouth with inhumane abandon, as if it were a disembodied hole existing solely for his pleasure.

After a few minutes of this barbaric thrusting and resultant spluttering and convulsing he ceased, cognisant of ensuring Rick didn’t vomit all over him. Entangling his delicate fingers in Rick’s sweat slick hair he wrenched his head up, watching with sadistic arousal as tears streamed down his face and he struggled to catch his breath.

 _“You’re so fucking pretty.”_ He taunted with an appreciative grin, now admittedly quite keen to fuck him.

———————-

 _“Th-thank you…”_ Rick grinned, tasting salt on his tongue as he licked his lips and caught his own tears. He had to swallow over and over not to puke his guts out all over the floor and he’d be burping even more than usual for the next while, but that was nothing.

He shifted a bit on the floor and started giving the other Rick a show again, thrusting into his own hand, moaning theatrically and pouting.  _“Come on, old-old man, quit stalling… Don’t… -urp- don’t you wanna see me covered in-in-in it?”_

————–

Evil Rick smiled, admittedly far more warmly than intended; there was something about this Rick; his mix of hot and cool, his blend of defeat and resilience, he was wonderfully unpredictable. Partly against his better judgement he reached forward and released the catch on Rick’s collar, delicately wrapping his fingers around his throat in the same position it had occupied, lovingly tracing the fresh bruising.

He turned Rick to face the wall and pulled him back, resting him against his clothed chest, pressing his sodden erection against Rick’s lower back as he swayed his hips against him teasingly and danced his fingers up and down his shivering torso.

This tenderness however was deliberately fleeting; with exceptional force he clasped the back of Rick’s neck forcing him to bend forward against the wall, crushing his head against the plaster. He spread Rick’s ankles with a swift kick to each, only to find himself forced to hold some of Rick’s weight as he fought to sustain his balance on his lame leg.

Parting Rick’s ass cheeks, he let a long glistening trail of his spit fall pleasingly between them, soaking his pouting hole.

——————————

Okay so this could go one of two ways, and it seemed to depend more on this Rick’s experience than anything else - he’d made it very obvious so far that he wanted Rick to enjoy himself, now it was just down to whether or not he could make that happen.

When he felt the first finger press against his muscles and slowly slip inside, Rick released a breath he didn’t know he’d been biting back - fuck, it felt so good to be invaded, so good already, why the fuck had he gone so long without it?

His captor held him in place just as roughly even though he’d stopped struggling and meekly pushed his ass back for more.

He could hear the low laugh by his ear, mocking him for how well he took it, how relaxed he was, how used he was to this. A shuffling noise, the rush of fabric as the other Rick bent down, a disgusting squelching and then he was stretched again, this time by two slippery fingers that twisted, spread and moved inside him.

_“Aahhh… God that feels good…”_

Hot, clammy, overwhelming, sickening, commanding his attention like nothing else could. The thought leapt through his foggy brain that he should just stay like this, always, and be filled, taken…

—————-

Evil Rick withdrew his fingers from Rick’s ass and snaked his hand up around his throat, plunging them sickly and slickly into his mouth, forcing them down until he gagged against them. As he felt Rick bite down in refusal he sighed and pushed his fingers further in, only pausing when he felt his skin tearing against Rick’s sharp teeth and the thick wet trickle of his own blood cascading down his knuckles.

With his other hand he eased himself into Rick, into that gloriously slick sleeve of warm membrane and tight tissue. He started slow, moving the head of his slithery cock in and fully out, almost tenderly, in an attempt to pace himself. He felt Rick clench in resistance against him, forcing him to move more aggressively and impale him harder, instantly Rick responded, relaxing around him, receptively softening.

 _“Woah C-C137, this isn’t your first time.”_  He remarked mockingly, before closing his eyes in concentration, rhythmically engorging himself, keen to extend the sweet sensation of Rick’s unflinching submission as long as possible.

———————–

It didn’t take long before Rick was leaning both arms against the wall to push his ass out further, met each thrust and impaled himself on it, each time letting a deep, low groan of need. Being this full, this low, this used just felt so fucking good he nearly drooled and he sucked Rick’s fingers, gagged on them, swallowed the blood that ran back into his mouth and licked his lips when they were finally pulled out to instead hold his eager hips in place.

 _“…I might have taken it now and again_ ,” Rick said with unconvincing calm, _“why - were you hoping to be my first?”_

Holding his balance like this was difficult. He wished he could relax and just focus on what was being done to him, but he did his best with both palms pressed to the wall. It hurt not to touch himself, not to stroke his aching, leaking cock, but with every rough push inside, every inch Rick gave him, it mattered less and less and he could already feel himself get close. His wanton moans echoed off the walls and no matter how much he tried he couldn’t hold them in.

 _“Y-your cock,”_ he groaned, barely coherent, _“God, it feels so fucking good…”_

_————————–_

Evil Rick fought hard to sustain his composure as he heard Rick grunt and groan, overcome by a multitude of sensations, each one combining with the other, threatening to overwhelm him. His heart was pounding in his chest, his teeth tensely gritted.

A mantra began to repeat in his head: _do not cum first, do NOT cum first_ , this he could do only once C-137 was spent, exhausted, struggling and unreceptive, anything else would be uncomfortably intimate. In his mind’s eye he could already see Rick’s furious disgraced face painted with long sticky strands of his semen……feeling a mounting pressure at the base of his throbbing dick, he slowed his pace to a deep rhythm in an attempt to regain control of himself.

Smoothing his hand around the curve of Rick’s angular hip he nimbly curled his fingers around Rick’s sticky rigid cock and began to pump his hand back and forth with reckless abandon. His furious pace and purpose was undeniably singular;

 _“I w-want to feel you clench and gush C-C137._ He hissed. _“ I_.. _I..I want to feel you rupture, inside and out.”_

_————————_

And Rick did, within seconds. That rough, greedy, careless touch on him took him by surprise and rushed it along and he came, hard, squeezing tight around his captor’s cock like he’d never let him go and shooting straight onto the concrete wall.

_“oh, fuck… oh fucking christ, that’s it, that’s it, don’t you dare stop…”_

He could stay here forever. Right now he wanted nothing else - just be kept, fed, fucked - he was good at this, couldn’t fuck anything up like this, and the way the other Rick forced his way back deep inside him, balls slapping against his thigh, ignoring the rhythm of his twitching cock and squeezing ass made his stomach lurch, so selfish, bringing Rick out of himself and forcing him, even at the peak of his orgasm, to think about the other more than of himself.

God, he was about to black out. The rush was intense, but already fading, and hot, angry tears spilled down his cheeks - it was too much, too much, it felt so good and he hated it, hated this Rick, this whole mess of a situation, hated himself. He knew he’d been released from that damn chain ages ago, but had he tried to make a run for it? No - he’d stayed here to get fucked and used, and he didn’t even want to think how far his torturer would take it after everything he’d said in the heat of the moment.   
  
Rick forced himself to relax, slowly; his skin was crawling and he waited in cold, clammy dread for what would come next.

—————–

Evil Rick gasped as Rick’s viscid load flooded over his hand and splattered across the wall with unbelievable force. Dropping Rick’s wilting cock; he wiped his hand across Rick’s chest with a flick of feigned disdain. Within moments he could feel the change he had predicted; Rick was no longer grinding against him like some sort of desperate animal; he was calm, still and to his sadistic delight seemed to have been crying.

As much as he enjoyed being responsible for Rick’s ungraceful fall into degradation, into a mewling, drooling wreck, it was not his submission which he truly craved now, it was his rage.

Hastily, he withdrew from Rick, the slick satisfying suction of him still lingering at the head of his cock.

 _“You disgust me.”_ He sneered, placing his hands roughly on Rick’s shoulder blades and pushing him violently to the floor. He laughed maliciously as Rick cried out in pain, watching with vile amusement as the wound on Rick’s arm scraped a red smear of blood across his floor tiles.

Evil Rick encased his glistening semi-erection back into his trousers and bent down to retrieve his phone, his face contorting into a cruel smile as he reviewed the footage.

 _“Oh C1…C-137, you should see this, it…it’s glorious!”_ He turned the volume up so that Rick could hear the shocking intensity of his own moans.

_“Oh and this bit Rick…”_

_**“Let-let-let me suck it, let me taste it…”**_ _-_ Rick blushed hearing the desperate yearning within the playback of his own raw voice

 _“L-l-let’s just say I think I’ve found my new –urp- ringtone.”_ Evil Rick taunted, smiling gleefully.

_“Now, who….who shall we send this to first C-137, the Council perhaps, or your Jerry….maybe even your Morty, what is he 14? I’m sure he’s seen worse things on the internet by now.”_

He looked down at the footage again and burst into obscene laughter.

_“Then again, maybe he hasn’t.”_

He locked eyes with Rick, forcing him to hold his callous gaze. _“Make a fucking choice old man.”_

 ——————–

Rick acted without even thinking. Afterwards he thought… well, it’s one thing to insult and hurt yourself, and another when someone else decides to join in and try to one-up you. As if their fifteen minutes of fame could rival your life time of hatred. Now he’d had his fun, and he’d come, and he’d come down and that bastard was still trying to grind him even further down and when he’d mentioned his Morty… He kicked out against the other Rick so hard, he managed to sweep him right off his feet and straight onto the tiles.

The pain in his leg and arm could wait; for now he scrambled up onto both and leapt gracelessly on top of his twin, pulled his uninjured arm back and hit Rick as hard as he’d ever hit anyone, straight in his cold, handsome face, again and again. He wanted to split his skull wide open, beat him until you couldn’t tell that that self-satisfied smirk had ever had a face to play across, but first, first he wanted to get revenge. The other Rick’s head thudded painfully down on the floor and he lay there, stunned, eyes rolling, trying to focus, mouth gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him from the fall.

What he, Rick, might lack in style compared to this villain, he made up for by not being as stereotypically, so spectacularly bad at planning. He had this one shot at turning the tables, and he wasn’t going to fuck around with mind games until everything else had been taken care of.

Without a single smug comment, he hit his nemesis again, this time sending him tumbling backwards into unconsciousness.

After that, and after securing the piece of shit with both collar and cuffs, it was just a matter of investigating to see what he could find. A couple of shots took care of his broken limbs, and then Rick took his time, exploring the room and its shelves, and piling every interesting piece of equipment he could dig up onto a trolley. Just as the other Rick was starting to move and make some noise, slowly returning to the world of the living, Rick had tossed another chain over a sturdy-looking beam. When he opened his eyes again and slowly realized what was happening, evil Rick was hanging painfully by his arms, tied to the chain, feet just barely touching the floor so that he’d have to stand on tip-toe to get any support from them.

c137 pulled up a chair next to the trolley he was fast learning to think of as his best friend, sank back into it and lit a cigarette. After all of this, he deserved a short break. And because he wasn’t a hack, his own phone stood on a tripod on his other side, ready to catch whatever he felt like dishing out. Still, he didn’t feel like speaking.

To be continued. 


End file.
